


Right Beside You

by gyromantico (squishycatpaws)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-01 01:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17235035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squishycatpaws/pseuds/gyromantico
Summary: Hanzo is a trauma surgeon that works for a local hospital affiliated with Overwatch. One fateful night, a trauma patient rolls up to the emergency room that will challenge what it means to him to be a doctor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers! 
> 
> \- This is my first fanfic in approximately 8 years, so my writing skills are rusty. This also means that I might stop writing at some point because that's just who I am as a person on earth today. If you enjoy, please let me know!
> 
> \- I am not a medical professional! Just a medical drama buff. I’m researching as I go, so if I get some things wrong, I apologize. 
> 
> \- I’m going to be limiting references to Hanzo’s Japanese heritage unless its plot relevant (it probably won’t ever come up tbh), as I am a white American, and cannot speak for that side of Hanzo’s character. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The worst thing about working in an emergency room wasn’t the horrors he saw on a daily basis. Hanzo was desensitized to the carnage. It all blended together after years of work. No- the worst part was when he got to know the patients he was treating. He did his best to avoid personal talk, unless it was medically relevant. However, it was an inevitable part of his job- bedside manner. He hated it. He’s seen countless people die, and with each death, he had to deliver the sorrowful revelation to the people who loved them. It shook Hanzo to his core. But, it was his job, and he had to do it. 

\--------

Sirens echoed through the emergency room hallway from the ambulance bay, intensifying as the hospital doors opened. Hanzo straightened his shirt and quickly washed his hands, mentally preparing himself for whatever bloodshed he might witness in the coming minutes. He stepped back against one of the privacy curtains, making way for the EMTs rushing to the nearest empty cot. 

As the patient was wheeled past him, a cursory glance proved that this person’s injuries weren’t immediately life threatening, but most certainly crippling. The man’s whole left side of his arm and torso were soaked in blood. So dark it almost looked like the shirt had been dyed that color, but that proved not to be the case, as the fabric on the other side of his body was tan. 

Hanzo followed one of his senior colleagues over to the stretcher the man was laying on, and assisted the EMTs with moving him onto a cot a few curtains over. He was much heavier than he looked on the outside. As he and the EMTs started cutting the shirt from his torso, Hanzo saw the thick, hearty muscles on the man’s uninjured side of his body.

“Patient was involved in a shooting. Multiple gunshot wounds in his left arm and torso; he’s stabilized but losing blood. Multiple contusions on his skull and …” The EMT continued to relay the situation to Hanzo and his team. He nodded slowly while taking in the situation. “Name?” he asked while carefully cleaning the wounded areas. “There was no ID on him.” 

He nodded once more and went back to work. He grimaced at the sight of the man’s arm. It was butchered, torn to shreds by bullet shrapnel. He already knew this arm wasn’t going to make it, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try. Suddenly, John Doe began to stir, wriggling a little against the hands of the EMTs. With a wet cough, he turned his head to the side and spat- a tooth landed on the floor with a clack. “Yeesh.” said one of the EMTs, making a face at the bloody spit that landed on his pants. The man settled back down, breathing shallowly, moaning occasionally in pain.

Hanzo sighed softly and continued his work. He and the emergency radiologist wheeled over the portable X-Ray machine and started taking images. Leaving the radiologist to her job, Hanzo rushed over to his colleagues to discuss treatment.

They decided on surgery to remove the shrapnel and double check that his internal organs were unscathed. His vitals shown that everything seemed to be working normally, or at least as normally as one could after being shot multiple times. His senior most attending surgeon went off to call the medical coordinator to prep an operating room. “C’mon Shimada, we gotta go.” Hanzo’s attending tugged on his sleeve and started walking hastily to the elevator, following behind the nurses wheeling the man’s cot. He swallowed dryly and jogged behind them.

\--------

The surgical team scrubbed up and got to work. They removed all the shrapnel along the side of his torso, and patched the lacerations. Hanzo pushed his glasses up with his arm and started on the ruined arm. He began extracting the bullets- but he was kidding himself. There was no way this arm was going to be functional ever again. With a heavy sigh, he and his team switched gears and prepped the man for amputation.

\--------

“Shimada.” His attending surgeon summoned him from down the hall of the recovery wing, into her office. She sat down some file folders she was carrying and took a seat.

“I know it’s not normally a part of your duties, but I want you to keep an eye on that John Doe from yesterday.” Hanzo furrowed his brows and clasped his hands together, breathing through his nose. “... But why, Angela? I didn’t go to medical school for nine years of my life to do a nurse’s job. I have better things to do.” 

She raised an eyebrow, not looking pleased. “First of all, it’s your job to do as I say. Second, do not belittle your coworkers like that.” She shut her eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of her nose under her glasses. “The reason I picked you is because you have… a unique experience in common with him.” She glanced down at his legs pointedly and then back up to his face. This only made Hanzo more disgruntled. 

“Being an amputee grants you much more knowledge and empathy than any of us.” She stood up and opened a filing cabinet drawer, flicking through some folders and pulling one out. Angela walked around her desk and presented the file to him. “You have-” she looked at her watch, “15 hours left of your shift. And you’re going to be spending it with him. Now get. To it.” She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist and a smile, and went back to her desk, purposely ignoring whatever protests and curses Hanzo threw back at her. She made a note of this.

\--------

Hanzo stood in front of the hospital room his patient was recovering in. He rolled the file up and clenched it, huffing through his nose angrily before composing himself with a deep breath and opened the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I tried to make the second chapter a little longer than the first. I'm still really rusty, and also impatient, haha. Let me know what you all think! <3

Hanzo stepped into the room quietly, gently closing the door behind himself. He raised his gaze to the man in the bed, looking him over. His color was better now after a night of recovery, but he was still out cold. Hanzo walked up to him and gave him a once over. His breathing was steady, exhaling deeply, softly snoring. His expression was almost serene. Arms lay at his sides, his remaining hand covered in medical tape to hold his IV secure. 

Unrolling the file, he checked over John Doe’s vitals and recorded the information he needed on a hospital tablet. After, he placed them down on a counter nearby and went to wash his hands. He pulled on some gloves and went to work examining his patient. 

The swelling on his head and cheek went down a fair amount overnight. Hanzo cleaned the cuts on his face and replaced the dressing. Next, he examined the wounds on his abdomen. Also fine. This guy lucked out, Hanzo thought to himself with a raised eyebrow. Well… aside from his arm, of course. Hanzo put off checking it, for the moment, feeling anxiety on his sleeping patient’s behalf. He justified it by telling himself he should wait a little longer to disturb the bandages around the amputation site. 

Hanzo took a seat near the bed, tossing his gloves into a nearby waste bin. He rubbed his face and sighed deeply, letting his emotions overwhelm him for just a moment. He felt so… terrible. About everything. He cursed his superior. She knew how hard it was for Hanzo to think about his own trauma, let alone a patient with a similar fate. He stretched out one of his prosthetic legs, regarding it briefly before huffing and looking away, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes, blocking out the tears. 

He sat there for some time, in silence. Eventually he got up and started pacing the room, thinking about how he wanted to break the news to the patient once he woke up. An hour or two passed, and he was called away to assist one of his colleagues. This was how his night went. Waiting, pacing, overthinking, leaving to help another patient, coming back. Rinse, repeat. 

It was about three in the morning, five hours left of his shift. Hanzo yawned deeply and stretched, blinking his eyes and standing. He checked over his patient one more time before wandering off to the staff lounge to raid their fridge of leftovers. 

\--------

Jesse felt warm. In his dreams he saw a soft orange light, throbbing. It was like a manifestation of the dull ache he felt all over his body. It felt almost like when he got home after a long night of work. He heard a soft, rhythmic beeping sound. His right hand twitched a bit. He shifted his body a little, groaning deeply when he felt a shockwave of pain course through his body. He tried to keep still but he was so… stiff. The pain in his back bothered him the most, for some reason. He didn’t normally sleep on his back. Weird. 

He started to reach off to the side, feeling for his glasses blindly. But. There was nothing. His hand didn’t make contact. Odd. He slowly opened his eyes, bleary and unfocused. It was dark, but he saw light coming from the other side of the room through the window of the door. Then lights blinking on either side of him. And that beeping. He sat like this for a few minutes, sleepy and confused.

The door opened suddenly, a dark figure stepping in. Jesse couldn’t see very well in general, let alone in the dark. He reached out again, feeling for his revolver. But again- nothing. He didn’t understand. Did the table get knocked over? 

Jesse huffed and sat up quickly, immediately regretting it. Tears flooded his eyes and he fell back into his pillow, clenching his teeth. “What the fuck…” he breathed hard, coughing, the rhythmic beeping starting to speed up.

Hanzo nearly dropped his takeout box when he saw the man moving, setting it aside and quickly and walking to the edge of his patient’s bed. “...” He hesitated, “Sir? Do you know where you are?” He rested a hand on the man’s right shoulder, keeping him down. “Don’t move, you need to rest.” He braced himself for the coming onslaught. 

“Who are you?! Get out of my house!” The man bellowed, beginning to panic. He turned in his bed again, moving away from Hanzo’s grasp. “What the fuck happened? Why do I hurt so much?” The man’s eyes began to adjust, looking around the room. “Wait a minute…” 

Hanzo relaxed as the man did, pulling his hand back. “You’re in a hospital. You, uh, were in an accident.” That wasn’t right. But then again, they had no idea what really happened to him. 

Jesse went quiet, considering Hanzo’s words for a few moments. “...” He reached up to run his hands through his hair, only his right hand making contact. His left arm ached. “Why…” he trailed off, squinting his eyes. He couldn’t see very well without his contacts in the dark. There were bandages wrapped around his left arm. His mind couldn’t really comprehend what was missing just yet.

Hanzo winced, expecting more yelling or crying. But he stayed silent to his surprise. The man looked back up at him, squinting. “Oh, uh, hold on.” Hanzo walked to the end of the room. “I’m turning on the lights, close your eyes.” The man groaned as the bright lights blinded him momentarily. 

“Jesus, give a guy some time to react.” His voice sounded more normal now. 

“Oh, sorry.” Hanzo made his way back to the edge of the bed. “What’s your name? Can you remember it?” He grabbed his tablet and brought up the patient file.

As Jesse’s eyes adjusted to the light, he rubbed his eyes with his right hand. Even if he wasn’t conscious of it, his body seemed to be adjusting to the missing limb. “Jesse. McCree.” He murmured, feeling uncomfortable giving out his real name. “You said an accident?” He asked, sounding unconvinced. His memory was foggy, but he knew whatever happened to him was probably his own fault. 

Hanzo fidgeted with the tablet, looking off to the side. He hated this part. 

“Yeah, we aren’t sure exactly what happened but you were shot. A lot, actually. We found fragments from as many as ten bullets in your abdomen and arm.” Hanzo exhaled. “You’re in good shape but we had to amputate part of your arm.” He got the words out quickly, hoping it would soften the blow. 

Jesse watched him, almost feeling bad for him, before realizing the weight of his words. “Amputate.” He repeated. He looked at his bandaged arm. “But I still feel it.” He flexed his absent fingers, feeling a burning pain at the tips.

“That’s called phantom pain. It’s fairly common in amputee patients.” Hanzo shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling more anxiety. He remembered the sensations, making his stomach turn. “We’re going to continue treating your wounds, and once you’ve recovered we’re going to refer you to our prosthetist. You’re lucky, she’s worked with many Overwatch agents before. She’ll take great care of you.” He kept talking, not realizing how upset his patient was getting.

Jesse raised and lowered what remained of his left arm slowly, wondering if this was a dream or not. No, there were too many sensations for this to be a dream. More tears lined the edges of his eyes. “Lucky.” His voice broke. He laid his head back down and held back a sob. This was career ending. What was he going to do now?

Hanzo looked away from him, fearing he might start crying as well. He was reliving every stage of grief right along with him. This was torture. He cleared his throat and started for the door. “You must be starving. Let me go get you something to eat.” He left without another word, not waiting to hear a reply. 

\----------

Hanzo leaned back against the wall and tried his best to compose himself. He was going to need so much therapy after tonight. He made his way to an elevator to the cafeteria.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me comments! I live for attention and validation! <3


End file.
